


He is lying; I never fought in that war

by crushing83



Series: Bullets and Blades [8]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is reincarnated, Bard lives many lives, Crossover, M/M, Modern AU, Owen having strange dreams, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Thranduil considering a life of crime, Unsafe Sex, bad things happen to elves, even though they were planning on getting tested, happens a few years before Fast & Furious 6, messy sex, playing it fast and loose with Tolkien's mythology, poor use of elvish, pre-Furious 6, somehow Thranduil finds him every time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5041282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deckard arrives in town and requests a meeting to give Owen the information he requested. He does not like Owen's boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is lying; I never fought in that war

**Author's Note:**

> This series has art! 
> 
> [Here](http://breathingbarduil.tumblr.com/post/128994328199/bullets-and-blades-by-crushing83), [here](http://piyo13sdoodles.tumblr.com/post/129626474766/i-need-to-sleep-but-crushing83-here-is-why-the), and [here](http://breathingbarduil.tumblr.com/post/131375633229/i-dont-like-the-idea-of-you-being-hurt-the-elf)! 
> 
> Thank you, lovelies. I'm so touched. <3
> 
> Everyone, go look at what they did!

"It looks like he showed up alone," Thranduil said quietly as he watched Deckard enter the courtyard, knowing his earpiece would transmit his words to Owen. "Unless he has invisible men." 

"If he could, he would," Owen muttered. "I'm not worried about him. Keep an eye out for anyone else, though." 

Thranduil snorted. "Right now, your biggest threat is the pair of women lamenting men fifty feet to your left," he commented, having picked up (more than a few) bits of their conversation on the wind. 

"You can hear them?" 

"Their body language. Something sad but not devastating. I'm assuming it's man trouble." 

Owen chuckled. Then, he spoke: "If you hear anything on the comms you want me to ask Deck about, tell me." 

"Yes, sir." 

He chuckled again, but it was a brief sound, as Deckard was coming closer to him. The taller, leaner man was carrying a cup of coffee and a briefcase; Owen had a cup of coffee in front of him, on the table, and his satchel was on the bench next to him. They both looked like mild-mannered businessmen, if one did not know for what to look. 

Thranduil, though, could see the danger in Deckard's body and in his eyes. He had no warmth in his expression. He knew Deckard was not one to be crossed; he would end anyone that got in his way. 

"Hey, mate, you got a light?" Deckard asked, waving a pack of cigarettes around a little. 

Owen pulled a lighter from his pocket. Deckard lit a cigarette, exhaling a small cloud of smoke

"Filthy habit, that," Owen commented. 

Deckard grinned as he sat down opposite his younger brother. "We all need a bad habit, keeps us honest," he said quietly. "You look good, O." 

"You, too," Owen replied. "Any trouble getting here?" 

"Nah. A bit of a tight spot in London, but nothing I couldn't handle," Deckard admitted. He flicked his cigarette's ashes onto the grass beneath them. "You're far enough from that, shouldn't create a stir here." 

"Good." 

"So you want to know about Mister Nobody..." 

Owen nodded. 

Thranduil tore his eyes away from them and started scouting the surrounding area. He kept his ears trained on their conversation, though, because he did not want to miss even a tiny bit of information about the man Owen had identified in Tauriel's photograph. 

"Dangerous intel to have, little brother." 

"I can handle it," Owen shot back. "Unless you don't trust me." 

Deckard chuckled. "Don't get your hackles raised. Of course I trust you." 

Thranduil looked at them in time to see Deckard opening his briefcase. He pulled out a thick manilla envelope and tossed it across the table. Owen looked down at it once, briefly, before looking back at his brother. Deckard nodded. Owen moved to open it. 

A recent picture showed the man had broadened as he aged, but not in the way Hobbs had increased his size. Thranduil resumed his visual sweep of the area, content to listen after committing the man's image to memory. 

He saw two young office workers sit down at the table behind Owen, but they were far enough away that they wouldn't hear anything of the Shaw brothers' conversation. 

"His name, as far as I know, is Frank Petty," the older brother said quietly. "He started in the American Navy, but was attached to a more than a few joint operations with the CIA. It didn't take long, he rose in the ranks pretty quickly." 

Owen snorted. "I had him pegged for an army guy." 

"Nah, he was a squid." 

"What else?" 

Deckard sighed. "What I could find of his record---which is most of it, by the way---is in the file. You should know, he got into research. New weapons, training, things like that." 

"You." 

"Yeah, he played a part in my training," Deckard admitted. He smirked. "Bet he regrets it now." 

Owen chuckled. "Probably." 

"He's in charge of some invisible ops teams now," Deckard told him. "Real heavy, secret stuff." 

Thranduil glanced back at them. He saw Owen nod, but a couple of people walking an empty baby carriage caught his attention. He frowned as he studied them. They weren't watching Owen and Deckard, but there was something about the empty carriage with no diaper bag (or anything else that a modern parent would carry) that concerned him. 

"I don't want to put an end to this, but at your ten o'clock there are two people walking an empty pram," he said quietly. "It may be nothing, but it feels wrong." 

"Deck," Owen said quietly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Your four o'clock." 

Deckard sighed. "They are getting sharper." 

"What did you do?" 

"Nevermind. I'll take care of it. They won't catch wind of your location." 

Thranduil reached for his bow and an arrow. He knew Owen would not want him taking action unless it was absolutely necessary; however, he felt better holding onto his weapon. He watched the couple take a picture of Deckard as he stood, blocking Owen from their view. 

"I'll be in touch, O," Deckard promised. 

"Thanks for this," Owen said as he put the envelope and its contents in his bag. "Make contact when you have a job for me." 

Deckard chuckled. "I always do." 

They parted ways pretty quickly. Deckard went out the way he entered; the suspicious couple followed him at a somewhat discrete distance. Owen looked around and took a path that would take him by the building Thranduil was using as his perch. 

"Overwatch, meet me at the car." 

"But---"

"Now," he interjected. "And pull your hood up." 

Thranduil scowled. He hated wearing anything that covered his ears or blocked his sight, even a little bit---especially when he was working for Owen. He obeyed, though, tugging the hood up before putting his bow and quiver of arrows away in his equipment bag. It only took a minute to prepare for departure; after that, he was running down the flights of stairs between him and the side door. 

He burst into the parking lot as Owen started the car. Schooling his stride so he didn't look panicked, he made his way to the vehicle and climbed into the passenger seat. 

"Got away clean?" Owen asked. 

Thranduil nodded. 

Owen smiled a bit, put the car into gear, and drove them away from the scene. 

"Don't worry about it," the man said quietly. "They came for Deckard. It wasn't anything we did on our end." 

Thranduil nodded again. 

"Let's go to my place," Owen suggested. "Easier to defend." 

"Defend?" Thranduil echoed. 

"Probably unnecessary, but better safe than sorry." Owen sighed. He shifted gears, turned onto the street that would take them to the man's home the most efficient way possible, and then reached out and squeezed Thranduil's knee. "We'll make lunch and go through the information together. Alright?" 

"Yes... that sounds good." Thranduil frowned. "Will your brother... manage?" 

"Yeah, he'll handle it." 

Thranduil hoped Owen was not implying that those two people were dead, but he doubted they'd survive for long if Deckard caught up to them. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

&&&

Thranduil looked at all the information spread out on the table between them and frowned.

"Well, this is perfectly unsettling," he muttered. 

Owen snorted. "We've definitely got our work cut out for us." 

That was an understatement. On his own, the man seemed very dangerous and very well connected to other dangerous sorts. His second in command, someone listed as Sheppard on official documents, was just as dangerous---with the edge a younger mind and body could provide. Beyond that, after comparing their records with some of the broken (and edited) accounts from Tauriel's database, Thranduil was beginning to realise that Frank Petty and his team were probably in charge of some---if not all---of the cruelty exacted upon the elves. 

"He's not going to get to you," Owen said quietly. 

"We have never done anything to him!" Thranduil hissed. "Why does he hunt us? Being different is no justification for what he's doing to---"

Owen reached across the table and covered one of Thranduil's clenched fists with his hand. "I know," he interrupted. "I wish I could tell you something that would fix all of this." 

"I am glad you... that you are with me." 

The man gave him a small smile. "Do you want to take a break?" he asked. 

Thranduil shook his head. "No," he replied. He turned his hand over and curled his fingers around Owen's hand. "I have classes in a few hours. I'd rather get through as much of this as possible." 

Owen studied him for a moment. Then, he nodded. "Let's start breaking down a geographical profile, then. Alright?"

Thranduil nodded, too. 

"And I'll pick you up tonight," he offered.

Thranduil smiled. "For break time?"

"Or bed time." 

The elf chuckled. "Alright," he agreed. He reached out with his free hand and picked up one of the pages Deckard had given his brother. "I'll start with the early years, shall I?"

"Yes, please," Owen replied. 

He released the elf's hand and headed over to the side of the room, where he'd once shown Thranduil a series of clear boards on wheels; Thranduil had laughed upon seeing them, but he couldn't deny that they were useful in organising information and making plans. As if reading his thoughts, and remembering that day, Owen smirked at him. 

Thranduil snorted and tossed him one of the markers the man had put on the table. 

"Get to work," he muttered. 

Owen laughed. Thranduil lost himself for a moment as he watched the man tip his head and body back, exposing the length of his neck. He always laughed like that, no matter the reincarnation, with burdens forgotten and complete investment in even the briefest of joys, and on Owen it was daring. A man who was watchful of enemies should mind what he leaves exposed (especially when it's his neck), but Owen never seemed to hesitate in bodily expressing his amusement and enjoyment. 

" _God._ Never stop looking at me like that." 

Thranduil shook his head, blinked, and focused on Owen's face. He was a little flushed, but smiling. Laughter was long gone from his eyes; something of a hotter temperature had taken up residence in his gaze. 

"I... excuse me?"

"You don't even know, do you?" Owen mused. "You make me feel ten feet tall, impossibly invincible, and special, to boot, when you look at me like you just were." 

Thranduil blushed, realising he'd been caught going doe-eyed at the sight of his partner. Owen walked to him and bent to bury a kiss in the elf's hair. 

"You honour me, elf," Owen whispered. 

The blond reached up with his hands and gripped Owen's shirt in his fingers. He tugged until Owen was sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs; then, he smiled and took a proper kiss from the darker man's mouth. 

"But, perhaps, not more than you distract me," he added between brushes of lips. 

Thranduil hummed. Owen chuckled, and the elf followed suit. They laughed softly, together, and when Owen's head fell back again, Thranduil pressed a line of kisses onto his exposed neck. The man groaned; the elf licked over the same line as if he were connecting the dots and he took pleasure in the way Owen groaned again. 

"Thran..." 

"Sorry," the elf whispered. 

"No, don't apologise," Owen insisted. He looked at Thranduil as he cupped his face in his hands. "But... you were the one who wanted to keep working," he reminded him, a smirk on his face. 

Thranduil smirked back at him. "I was distracted." 

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Maybe." 

Owen chuckled and kissed the elf's lips. "You are temptation," he growled into the lack of space between them. Thranduil replied by nipping at Owen's upper lip. Owen pulled back, his lip sliding slowly from Thranduil's teeth, and then he stole another kiss. "Alright. Back to work," he decided. 

He moved out of Thranduil's lap slowly. Thranduil let his fingers trail over Owen's hips and legs as they slipped past his grasp; when the man left him to return to his boards, he let out a little sigh but he accepted his reality and picked up some of the papers they'd need for the geographical profile. 

"Ready?" Owen asked. 

He nodded. "Whose geographical information would you like to start with?"

"Petty's," Owen decided. "We'll plot the accounts from Tauriel's records after." 

Thranduil nodded again and together, they worked.

&&&&&

Thranduil stepped out of the shooting range and inhaled deeply. The night air generally _reeked_ to his elvish senses, but every once and a while, there was a scent of something pleasant that he likened to hope. He closed his eyes and smiled; the scent was there, damp and earthy and with a touch of something light and green. He likened it to hope because it gave him hope that the land was not lost completely to greed and pollution.

When he scented (and heard) Owen nearby, he opened his eyes and smiled more. 

"Taking a minute?" Owen asked. 

The man was leaning against the side of his car, legs crossed, hands in his pockets. He looked amused at Thranduil's antics and pleased to see him at the same time. Thranduil grinned and nodded. 

"Good classes?"

"Yes," the elf replied as he walked towards his lover. He kissed Owen. The man shifted and put his hands on Thranduil's hips. "Cassie finally hit the centre of the target. I never thought I'd see her quiet enough to do it."

"Takes concentration," Owen agreed. "Was she thrilled?"

"Ecstatic. She couldn't hit anything after that, she was vibrating so much." 

Owen chuckled. "Proper thing," he murmured. "How were the others?"

"Good, improper posture not withstanding." 

The man chuckled again. He eased Thranduil's bag's strap off of his shoulder and slipped out from between the elf and the car. 

"We can't all be as graceful as you, love," Owen teased. 

Thranduil snorted as he watched the man walk towards the back of the car. He opened the trunk and put the bag inside. As he did that, Thranduil caught sight of a shadow creeping along the edge of the parking lot. He didn't look at it directly, not wanting to tip off whoever was spying on them, but he did shift his weight and take a step closer to Owen. 

Owen interpreted his move as a desire to be closer; the man closed the gap between them and brushed his fingers along Thranduil's jaw. The elf smiled at him but his focus was on the approaching newcomer. 

"How was your afternoon?" Thranduil asked him. 

"Boring without you to distract me," Owen joked. He took Thranduil's hand in his and guided him around to the passenger side of the car. "I got some of the other geographic profile started, though," he added quietly. "We were right. There are parallels. I think we might be able to zero in on a location or two." 

Thranduil temporarily forgot about the shadow in light of that information. He looked at Owen, eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really?" he asked. "Where are the---"

"A couple of places in Europe, one in Russia that seems defunct now, and another in the States," Owen told him. "But, once you look at it and we send the information to Tauri---"

It all happened so quickly. Thranduil smelled oil and metal and gunpowder; he reacted. He grabbed the knife he kept at his waist and threw it in the direction of a slight glint in the dark space behind Owen. A trigger was pulled, and the silenced bullet was only loud to Thranduil; he put his hands on Owen's shoulders, pushing the man down. The bullet zinged over their heads and impacted in the wall of the shooting range building. 

Owen didn't look scared, but his eyes were wider. He reached between them for his gun. With a nod in the elf's direction, they moved. They both raised their bodies into crouching positions. Owen kept Thranduil behind him, as they both looked towards the shadows. 

The man raised his gun as he rose to a standing position. Thranduil stood slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the shadow. He couldn't see any movement. 

Almost a second too late, he realised their attacker had gone around the car. Thranduil nudged Owen out of the way and dove for the body coming at him. 

It may have been stupid, since their attacker had a gun and his knife, but Thranduil didn't care. There was little chance they were after him---if they were, he suspected that there'd be a military team after them instead of one man---so he believed they were after Owen. He was not going to let anyone hurt Owen, if he could help it. 

The male body grunted upon impact but recovered quickly. Thranduil snarled as he was pinned down onto the ground. He kept his eyes on the knife in the hand, focused on the blade more than the gun in the moment, and bucked against the body holding him down; a few good thrusts and a kick of his legs, and he was the one on top, pushing the man down and trying to disarm him. 

"Deck?! What are you doing?! Stop!" 

Owen's pronouncement startled Thranduil. His shock was to Deckard's advantage as the assassin rolled them again. Luckily for the elf, Owen decided to get involved at that point. With the man pulling back his brother and Thranduil kicking himself free, they eventually came apart. 

Thranduil made a fist and brought it across Deckard's face. The older Shaw brother grinned menacingly; licking the blood from his split lip only made him look more dangerous. 

"Felt yourself in the crosshairs, did ya?" Deckard sneered. 

Owen looked down at his brother. He hauled the other man to his feet and shoved him against his car. "What the fuck?!" he asked, gesturing to the gun in his hand. "Kendall's no threat!" 

"I'd bet all the money I've got his name isn't Kendall Monroe." 

"It's not," Owen commented. "I already know that." 

That seemed to surprise Deckard, judging by the way his eyebrow twitched, but no one commented on that. Owen stepped between his brother and his lover. Thranduil yearned for another weapon---just in case---but he had faith in Owen's ability to take charge of an unpleasant situation so he was willing to wait. 

Owen turned to glance at Thranduil. "Are you alright?"

Thranduil nodded and wiped his hands on his trousers. 

"What are you doing with him?" Deckard asked. 

"He's on my team," Owen replied. 

"What are you doing with my brother?" Deckard asked Thranduil. 

"Having quite a lot of sex," the elf replied. "When we aren't working, of course." 

Owen snorted. Deckard glared at him. "You think this is funny?"

"A little," Owen admitted. 

"You let that pointy-eared bastard---"

"Hey!" Owen interrupted, his voice suddenly hot and sharp. "Watch it." 

Deckard grimaced. "No, no, no... don't tell me you've gone and fallen for 'im." 

"That's none of your business," Owen insisted. 

"Did he tell you what he and his kind did?" Deckard asked. He turned to Thranduil. "I know what you're capable of. Did you really think I'd sit back and let you do the same to my little brother?!"

Owen frowned. "When have you seen---"

"They're hunting you," Deckard continued, waving the knife Thranduil had thrown in the elf's direction. "You are going to bring down everyone around you, everyone close to you. They won't stop until every last one of you are dead or behind bars, until they know all your secrets." 

"Deck, what are you talking about?"

"You think this'll be the end? Do you think what they did to me will be the end of it?" Deckard continued, still ignoring his younger brother. "They wanted a group of soldiers. A hunting party. For all of you. I was the trial run. Too strong-willed. They're getting better. Picking better soldiers." 

Deckard's words made the elf pause. _Was Deckard one of the successful experiments that Tauriel had mentioned? Did he have elf blood in him?_ Thranduil studied him. He couldn't sense anything in him; but he would have the science and not the spirit of a half-elf, so he didn't expect to pick up anything from him in that way. Owen hadn't spoken much about his brother, except to say that he was ruthless and dangerous and well-trained; he wondered how much of that was due to an injection or two of blood that belonged to one of the elves who did not sail away or fade. 

"I apologise," Thranduil said quietly. "It wasn't me. I've never... been captured. We wanted nothing to do with---" he broke off, so many words wanting to spill out and break the trust he had with Owen. "We only want to live. Peacefully. People like... like that man in the file... he wants to pick us apart." 

"He did. He will again." 

The elf nodded, frowning as he thought about the photographs he'd seen and the accounts he'd read. "I know." 

"What are you two talking about?" Owen asked. 

"The experiments," Thranduil said quietly. "The ones my friend mentioned." 

Owen nodded. 

Deckard snorted and looked at his brother. "Well, now I know why you were asking for that intel. He---" he gestured to Thranduil "---put you up to it, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't. I offered." 

"You don't know what you're getting into." 

"I know enough," the darker man insisted. Deckard shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, but Owen spoke again. "And I don't need you trying to kill Kendall to protect me. He's never lied to me about anything." 

Thranduil felt his insides clench but he did his best to keep that reaction from showing on his face. Deckard grinned, but it wasn't a happy smile; he looked vicious, as if he was spoiling for a continuation of their fight. Owen seemed to pick up on that, too. He shifted his weight and Thranduil saw him tense like a coil about to spring. 

"You have no idea," Deckard muttered. "You don't know what they did to me because of him!" 

Owen frowned. "Tell me," he insisted. 

Deckard shook his head. His body relaxed a little. "Another time, little brother. With plenty of liquor." 

Owen shifted his weight. "Are we done here?"

"For now," Deckard decided. 

He passed his brother Thranduil's knife. Owen passed it back behind him. Thranduil took it. He thought about wiping it off, but then hesitated to do so. He was not a scientist, but he couldn't ignore there may be value in studying his blood, if another elf was inclined towards that field of study. He sheathed the knife carefully, hoping there was a way to preserve the blood---and that he could do it without Owen noticing. 

"I'll be keeping a watch on the pair of you, though." 

Owen snorted. "Fine. I'm going to take Kendall home now and fuck him senseless. Enjoy watching that, creep." 

Deckard stepped back, away from the car. In the movement, Thranduil saw where his knife had struck him. The left sleeve of his coat was shining a little when the light caught it. When he scented the air, he could smell blood in addition to the yuck and the hope. 

The younger brother opened the passenger side door and looked at Thranduil. "You sure you're alright?" he asked quietly. 

Thranduil nodded. Owen smiled a bit and gestured towards the inside of his car. The elf nodded and slipped inside. When the door was closed, Deckard approached again. 

"You need to watch him, little brother," Deckard whispered, as if he knew Thranduil had increased hearing. "He'll turn on you in a heartbeat to save his kind." 

"I don't believe that's true, Deckard," Owen said firmly. "But, I appreciate the warning. I'll take your opinion into consideration." 

Deckard backed off after that. He disappeared into the shadows again, in almost the same way he appeared to them, and it wasn't until Owen seemed sure he was gone that he moved around to the other side of the car. 

He didn't say anything after getting in and turning on the vehicle. Thranduil kept glancing at him; he could see the tension in the man's body slowly dissolving as he drove. They drove for a while, not going straight to Owen's home, as if Owen was concerned that his brother was going to follow him. 

When they finally pulled into the garage, Owen sent Thranduil to the elevator with a softer smile before he headed to the panel of closed-circuit monitors he kept by the wall and table of mechanical tools. The elf watched him until the elevator doors opened for him; he didn't want to leave the man alone, but he understood needing to process events, and he could respect Owen needing to that. 

He went upstairs with his gear. The bag, he left in the entryway along the far wall so it wouldn't be in the way, and then he took his knife off of his belt and went into the kitchen area. He rummaged through the cupboards, trying to find a container that could be made air-tight. All he found was a package of what looked like freezer bags. With a sigh, he pulled out one and put his knife and sheath inside of it. 

After tucking the knife in his equipment bag, he pulled off his boots and hung his jacket up in the closet. He went back into the kitchen and found a half-empty bottle of wine. Instead of pouring it into a glass, he brought the rim of the bottle to his lips after pulling free the cork. 

When he heard Owen enter the residence, he set down the bottle and licked his lips. 

"I don't think he followed us," Owen said quietly. He smiled when he saw the bottle. "Getting drunk?"

"Taking the edge off," Thranduil replied. 

Owen smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen you throw a knife like that," he commented. "You've got good aim. And timing." 

"Thanks." 

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone draw blood from my brother and live to tell about it." 

"I haven't told anyone yet. And I don't think he's decided to let me live yet, either." 

Owen's smile faded into a look of seriousness. "I'm sorry he came so close to trying something. I won't let him touch you, now that I know he's a threat," he promised. Thranduil nodded. Owen glanced at his waist. "Do you still have your knife?"

"It's... in my bag." 

"Would you mind if... well... this is strange." 

"What is it?" Thranduil asked. 

Owen pressed his lips together as he thought. When he spoke, he looked concerned. "The way he talked. Like he knew what happened to Tauriel. To your family and others like you. Like he knew about the experiments," he said. "Do you think they experimented on him?"

"He's not like us."

"No, I mean, this is going to sound mad, but could they take whatever's in someone like you, and put it in him? Or reverse engineer it somehow?"

"They have tried it before," Thranduil admitted. "Tauriel told me. It didn't often work." 

"Sounds like a bad movie," Owen muttered. He ran a hand over his head. "I want the blood. I need to know. I can preserve it and find someone to study it." 

Thranduil nodded. Owen's being able to preserve it was valuable; he just had to convince Owen to save it for Tauriel or one of her contacts. He went to his bag, found the knife in its plastic sack, and brought it back to the man. 

"I wanted to take it to Tauriel, the next chance I have," he explained. "I was curious." 

"Does she have someone that can run it?"

Thranduil replied: "Probably. I will contact her tomorrow and ask." 

Owen nodded. He took the bag and set it on the counter. Then, he walked to Thranduil and tugged him close. "You were hot, you know," he said quietly, as his hands slipped into his back pockets. "I love that you keep surprising me with your skill. I love that you didn't flinch, that you threw the knife without hesitation." 

"I thought..." Thranduil trailed off as Owen's hands squeezed. 

"Yes?"

The elf closed his eyes. "I thought it was someone coming for you," he admitted. 

"Well, I can't lie, that makes it hotter," Owen murmured gruffly. "Remember when I told you I'd been planning something? But Tauriel was here and we never got a chance for it?" he asked, voice still rough and rumbly. When Thranduil nodded, Owen leaned in and kissed his jaw. "Go get a shower," he instructed. "I'm going to put what I can of the blood in a preservative and seal it. Then, I'm going to clean up, too, and I'll meet you by the bed." 

"And then?"

"It's a surprise," the man told him. 

Thranduil scowled. Owen grinned and kissed his scrunched lips. 

"Go get clean," he said in a quiet, purring voice. " _Really_ clean." 

The elf understood what he was saying and he nodded as his cheeks and ears flushed. He had an inkling of an idea of what Owen had been plotting; he felt his temperature increase and his pulse race as he contemplated the possibilities. As if Owen knew what he was thinking, he grinned and rubbed his hands over the backs of Thranduil's thighs. 

"Go on," he urged. "I'll be with you as soon as I finish with your knife." 

Thranduil nodded. He kissed Owen's cheek as he slipped around him, letting his hand linger on the man's chest until it had to follow the rest of his body. He ducked into the bathroom, started the shower, and began to undress. 

He wasn't sure what to expect, but he had suspicions---and they were all telling him the night was about to take a very pleasurable turn.

&&&

Thranduil had forgotten how tortuous pleasure could be---or how pleasurable torture could be, if he were being completely honest about the situation.

Once he'd returned from the bathroom, Owen met him by his bed. He was tying ropes to the headboard in a somewhat intricate pattern; it resembled a net, of sorts, and Thranduil was intrigued. When the man finished, he explained what he wanted the elf to do, and then Thranduil was aroused. 

The elf was positioned onto the bed on all fours, resting his chest on a pile of pillows the man put into place; his knees were spread and he was told to grab the rope and to not let go of it. 

And then, Owen began teasing him. 

It was subtle and easy to bear at first. There were kisses over his shoulder blades and down his spine; caresses to match came over his sides in long, slow strokes. But, then, the kisses became licks and nibbles and they moved downward and Thranduil felt himself shifting automatically as his body warmed to Owen's touch. 

Owen bit into the back of Thranduil's thigh. He held the flesh between his teeth until Thranduil whined and trembled; then, he soothed the bite with his tongue in slow laps. The elf muttered under his breath about returning the favour; the man behind him laughed against his skin. 

At the first touch of his tongue between Thranduil's cheeks, the elf shuddered from his head to his toes. The wet contact was fleeting at first, traces of the tongue's tip, but then broader and flatter strokes were put down on the tender area. Owen pulled his flesh wide with his hands, granting him access to everything he desired, and the man went to work reducing Thranduil to a quivering mess. 

Thranduil resisted as long as he could, but it was too hard (on several levels) by the time Owen's tongue started penetrating him. By the time Owen had his face pressed against Thranduil's skin so his tongue could go as deep as possible, Thranduil was ready to weep and beg. 

His ego took comfort in the knowledge that that man was the only person who could reduce him to weakness. He felt no shame; he loved Owen and every reincarnation between him and Bard, and if that man wanted him to beg, he would eventually (soon) beg for him. 

"Owen... fuck, please touch me, fuck me---"

He broke off and whined. Owen's tongue pulled free. Owen kissed over his tailbone. 

"Not until you get off," he explained. His voice was hoarser and deeper than normal. It vibrated against his skin. "And then, yeah, I'll fuck you. Get you all loose and wet... watch you explode... and then I'll sink in as deep as I can in one, long stroke. Maybe I'll fuck you until you get hard again." 

Thranduil shuddered. Owen chuckled. 

"Some day, I'll fuck you bare, watch my cum drip out of you," the man whispered, his voice growling a little over some of the words he uttered. 

Thranduil's abdomen tightened. His hips rolled against air, against Owen's grip. "Oh fuck, now, please, nownow _now_ ," he begged. 

"Thran..." 

"I am clean," he insisted. "And you are already... well, you're already---" he broke off and growled. "Just fuck me!" 

"You trust me enough for that?"

Thranduil nodded. He turned his head to see Owen watching him with a dazed expression on his face. "I trust you with all of me," he murmured. "All my secrets, my history, my future." 

"I... I thought you'd need---"

"A piece of paper? Honestly, Owen. I know you. You are meticulous. And I trust you." 

The dazed look turned predatorial in a blink of elf eyes. Thranduil felt his cheeks warming under Owen's dark gaze. 

"Hold on tight," Owen murmured. 

Thranduil saw Owen's face dropping lower and he turned back to face the headboard as Owen's tongue licked in a circular pattern, narrowing in on its target. His efforts were more intense, more focused, as if his goal had suddenly become that much more important to reach, and Thranduil was quickly swept back up in the pleasure of the moment. 

He rocked his hips back into Owen's face, uncaring of anything but the heat and arousal the man was sharing with him. He felt his erection, heavy and swollen, sway as he moved; he groaned and let his head fall down. He just wanted to stroke it once, just to adjust it (he really wasn't being honest with himself at all and he didn't care), so he shifted his weight to release the rope and---

_Slap!_

"Don't let go," Owen growled. 

He squeezed the place he'd spanked. The skin tingled in Owen's grip. 

"Owen..." 

"Don't test me." 

Thranduil rebalanced himself and tightened his fists around the rope. 

Owen rewarded him with a kiss to the place he'd spanked. Thranduil sighed. Owen chuckled. 

The next time his tongue entered him, the man seemed to seal his mouth over the joining and he hummed. Thranduil hadn't expected that. He bucked and twisted and the vibrations stopped; he forced himself to still and they resumed. 

"Owen, please, oh---"

The man behind him chuckled. The elf felt the sound all the way up his spine. 

Thranduil continued to babble as Owen continued to torment him. The humming vibrations started and stopped; the tongue prodded and withdrew. Owen seemed to be using every trick in the book and there was nothing Thranduil could do but hold onto the rope and hope he survived. 

He knew he wouldn't reach climax from Owen's attentions. He'd never been able to before. It was a nice idea, and he knew he was definitely turned on enough, but he doubted that it would happen. He assumed he was going to be stuck like that, desperate and on edge, until Owen tired---and Owen did not tire easily when he was determined. 

When Owen finally pulled back, kissing and nibbling on surrounding skin, Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief (and disappointment). He was giving up. He would change his mind and fuck him. The elf shivered in anticipation. 

"Look at you," Owen whispered. "Leaking into a puddle on the sheets, trembling, pink... fuck. What a sight." 

Thranduil shivered again. Statements like that usually meant he was ready for intercourse. He spread his legs a bit more, preparing for Owen's abandoning of his plan. 

But, he _didn't_ abandon his plan. 

The elf hissed and cursed under his breath as Owen dove back in. He shook and he cursed some more when the vibrations resumed. Fingernails scratched over the sides of his thighs; he rocked into Owen and the vibrations stopped. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Thranduil snarled. 

The vibrations resumed as it sounded like Owen was laughing against him. 

Eventually, the man took pity on him. He added a couple of fingers, sliding them in along his tongue, and the pressure of them against his walls and sensitive nerves pushed his arousal up to a new level. Thranduil moaned and whined, rocking his hips as best as he could while Owen's grip tightened on him. 

Owen moaned his name and the sound rushed through him. The elf felt desire pooling in his abdomen, the pressure of it increasing, and when Owen added his teeth to the mix, everything came to a head in a shout and what felt like an explosion. 

Thranduil's body tightened as climax crashed into him and slackened as it faded. He sagged into the pillows; his hands loosened on the ropes but his fingers were still tangled in them. He felt Owen's hands stroking his sides and thighs, but he felt too boneless to react to it. 

He felt Owen's hands move up his body. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see those hands curl around his. Owen pulled him from the ropes and eased him onto his back; he adjusted the pillows as he repositioned the elf. 

"You with me?" the man asked. 

Thranduil nodded. He turned towards the man and kissed his belly---all that was within easy reach. 

"Fuck me," Thranduil whispered. 

Owen smiled down at him. He rubbed a hand over Thranduil's head as he leaned down to kiss him. Thranduil licked into his mouth, not caring where it had been; Owen groaned and dropped down a bit to deepen their kiss. 

When the kiss ended, the elf felt his lover grope along the mattress. He stopped around Thranduil's hip, curled his hand around something, and then there was a click of plastic and a squish of thick liquid against skin. 

Owen groaned. Thranduil felt more than saw him stroke himself, but when Owen shifted over him he made sure he was paying close attention. He kept his body pliant; he let Owen move him until he was in the desired position, and he waited. 

The man pressed his way inside slowly, letting them both feel every millimetre of skin sliding against skin. He sighed, rumbling a little; Thranduil hummed and reached out for his lover. He trailed his hands over Owen's arms, up to his shoulders, and arched his back as he secured his grip. 

The pace Owen set was slow. He rocked his hips forward and back in long strokes that used his entire length. When he angled for Thranduil's (over-)sensitive nerves, the elf whined. When he granted Thranduil a reprieve, the elf scratched his nails over Owen's arms. 

"Do that again, love," Owen insisted. 

Thranduil repeated his scratching. Owen shivered. Thranduil smirked and started scratching over his chest, sides, and back. Owen's skin became covered in gooseflesh. When he scratched over Owen's nipples, the man's slow pace and precision faltered. 

With a devilish grin, the elf repeated his actions. Owen groaned and tipped his head back, losing himself in the sensations, and Thranduil stroked one hand up to caress the base of his throat. 

"Shall I do that again, too?" the blond asked. 

Owen nodded. Thranduil chuckled and scratched over the man's nipples again. He was rewarded for his efforts with a strong thrust of Owen's hips. 

The man returned to his slow, accurate pace. The slide was tickling Thranduil's flesh and making his nerves tingle. He felt an inkling of the flush of arousal, trickling along his spine; he tightened his legs around Owen's waist in the hope of spurring him on, but the man seemed content to keep the pace he'd set. 

It was delicious and frustrating and too much. 

And there was nothing Thranduil could do to escape it. 

Owen kept up his chosen pace and seemed to delight in every whine and whimper he extracted from Thranduil's lips. When the elf seemed truly uncomfortable, he backed off his target, but when that discomfort faded, his focus returned with deadly accuracy. 

Thranduil's arousal returned, but it was sharp and almost painful. Owen leaned down, gentling its intensity with soft kisses; Thranduil sighed into his mouth and let Owen swallow any sounds he made. 

"God, you're perfect," Owen whispered between kisses. "And all mine." 

Thranduil nodded. He felt Owen's lips curve against his cheek. The man nuzzled and kissed his way to Thranduil's ear; he stretched, sucked the tip into his mouth, and braced himself for the elf's explosion. 

He wasn't disappointed. Thranduil moaned and bucked against him; Owen held him against his body, gave him a tether against the sensations. When he sped up, the man's breath was warm against his ear, continuing to tease him in a less direct way. 

"Owen... please..." 

Thranduil's hands left Owen's body and fumbled for the ropes. Owen lifted his head, watching the elf stretch out, and his eyes grew even darker. He leaned back a bit; the pace of his hips quickened. He snapped his hips forward every few strokes, smirking when the elf yelped each time. 

"Close?" Owen asked. 

Thranduil nodded again. 

Owen's control faltered---barely, but Thranduil knew the signs well after so much time with the man---and they seemed to be racing towards the finish line. They drove each other to madness, to a frenzy of movement and sound, but Owen still managed to make sure Thranduil tumbled over the edge before he did. 

Thranduil cried out the man's name---at least that's all he hoped he cried out---and stiffened as Owen stroked up his erection and brushed its head with his thumb, at the same time as he shifted his hips in just the right way to make the elf come apart. He felt his muscles pulse around Owen and then he felt the man shatter, too. 

Owen dropped his head down to Thranduil's chest. The elf released the ropes and stroked the man's back. He could feel him heaving for breath. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Owen's head. 

"Very good thing we didn't do this when Tauriel was here," Thranduil commented quietly. 

The man resting on him chuckled a little. "Better we didn't wait too long, though," he whispered. 

"Mmm," Thranduil hummed in agreement. 

"Are you alright?" Owen asked. 

The elf snorted. "I can't feel my legs, but I suspect that will change with time." 

Owen laughed softly. He eased off of Thranduil's body and slumped down at his side. Thranduil turned towards him, reaching out with an arm to keep the man close. 

"Are you alright?" Thranduil asked him. 

Owen grinned a sleepy grin. "Never better, love," he murmured. 

"What brought all that on?" Thranduil asked. 

"A need to see you go to pieces," the man replied. "A want to reward you for earlier."

Thranduil closed his eyes and smiled. Owen brushed his fingers over Thranduil's face and neck before letting his hand settle on the elf's chest. 

"I'll get a flannel in a minute." 

The elf nodded. He smiled again when Owen kissed the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head and blindly kissed what he could reach; his lips landed on Owen's cheekbone and then on his chin. 

Eventually, Owen rolled away. He went into the bathroom and returned with a warm and damp cloth. Thranduil could smell soap and see dampness on his skin; he guessed the man had cleaned himself up before returning and privately lamented the show he'd been denied. But, then, Owen rolled him back onto his back and stared at the mess he'd made between the elf's legs; the hunger in the man's eyes made thoughts of disappointment fade away as he saw the passion return to Owen's face. 

"Fuck." 

Thranduil chuckled. "Is it really so... enticing?"

Owen dropped the cloth and leaned down. After parting his legs, he licked up and over Thranduil's ass. He ended in a lip-smacking kiss to the same skin that left the elf shivering. 

"Owen---"

"Shush." 

The elf groaned. Owen bit into the curve of the back of his thigh. Thranduil whimpered---his nerves were too raw, too sensitive, and he didn't know how much more he could take---but he fell silent and let the man have his fun. 

Owen took pity on him---as much as he was able to---and didn't draw it out too much. He licked until the elf was clean and panting beneath him, and then he sucked his body's valiant attempt at an erection into his mouth. 

Thranduil yelped and gripped the ropes above his head. Owen smirked around his mouthful, the expression more vivid in his eyes than in his lips; he watched Owen and the man watched him back. 

"Owen, please," he begged, "I can't... it's too much---"

Owen's tongue did something awful and wonderful, and the elf stopped talking to let out a long, low moan. 

He watched the dark-haired man and held onto his tether. He couldn't do anything else. 

Orgasm came (when it _finally_ did) in an explosion of lights behind his eyelids. He felt the man's tongue on his abdomen and then he felt the cloth wiping at his face. 

"Ow-owen..."

"Shhh," Owen whispered as he wiped tears and sweat from Thranduil's skin. 

A minute later, Thranduil felt himself being moved into the cradle of Owen's arms. He exhaled shakily, feeling more exposed and defenseless than ever, and tucked his face into Owen's chest. The man replied by running his fingers through his blond hair. 

"Too much?"

"Very nearly," the elf admitted. 

Owen kissed his forehead. "I apologise," he murmured. "I couldn't resist." 

"I hope that sight loses some of its appeal over time, or else we might never leave this bed," the elf muttered. He sniffled and kissed Owen's chest as the man chuckled. "That was not a suggestion." 

Owen laughed more. "I know, love," he said quietly, laughter still in his voice. "We have things to do." 

"Ugh. Don't remind me." 

"For now, just pretend we've got nothing going on," Owen advised. "Morning will come before you know it." 

Thranduil nodded. It was good advice. 

He dozed off, feeling safe and cherished in the circle of Owen's arms, with thoughts of the near future pushed aside for more pleasant dreams of vacations and secluded cabins with no one to bother them.

&&&&&

_I have a sample from someone I think was experimented on. A former soldier._

Thranduil sent the text to Tauriel and put his phone on the bedside table. He heard and felt Owen wake up; he reached up to brush his fingers over the back of the man's head. 

"Morning," Owen mumbled. He yawned before rubbing his face against Thranduil's shoulder. "Tauriel?"

"Yes," the elf whispered. 

"Mmmkay." 

Thranduil smiled. He massaged Owen's neck and shoulders as best as he could from that angle, pinned to the bed by his lover's body, and closed his eyes. It was always quieter in Owen's home, as it was off the beaten path, away from major roadways. He could hear construction if he concentrated; he tuned it out, though, and focused on the comforting sound of Owen's steady breathing. 

When his phone beeped, he reached over with his closest hand. He looked at the screen, first, to see Tauriel's response--- _With e-blood? Who? Interesting. I might have someone close by who could study it. Curious to see what it does._ \---but he eventually unlocked it to type his reply. 

"What's she saying?"

"She wants to know whose blood it is," Thranduil whispered. "Don't worry. I will not tell her---"

"No, tell her," Owen insisted. "She'll understand the need to keep it secret." 

"Are you sure?"

Owen sighed. "Yeah. If she keeps it to herself." 

"She will if I tell her to," Thranduil assured him. He understood that Tauriel would need to know what they were facing, how their situation was possibly changing (again). He was suprised, though, that Owen seemed willing to extend the truth to the other elf. He turned into Owen and kissed the top of his head. "I trust her." 

"I know. That's why I'm alright with her knowing." 

_O's brother paid us a visit last night. He tried to kill me. He said some things... sounded like he'd been given "treatment." Please keep to yourself._

_O suspects. He preserved it. Can courier or arrange to meet someone if you want it._

Tauriel's reply came quickly--- _Wow. Yes. I will arrange a pick-up. Stay close to your phone, I will be in contact soon._ \---and Thranduil wrote a quick text to agree to her terms. As he tossed his phone onto the bed, Owen's phone chirped. He groaned, reached for it, and put it in his lover's open hand. 

"Deckard," Owen grumbled. He unlocked the screen, scrolled through the message, and then turned it towards the elf in his arms. "Want to explain this?"

"Explain what?"

Owen frowned but said nothing. Worried, because even though he knew he'd done nothing in the battle between men and elves he also knew Deckard wouldn't leave it alone until Owen was finished with him, he took the phone out of the man's hand. 

There were pictures, without a text message. The elf supposed no text was required as the images spoke for themselves quite well. 

Devastation of an explosion was in the first image. Military tents were on fire, blown apart and blowing in the wind. Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead or dying. Thranduil frowned. He assumed it was the event to which Deckard had alluded, but he had no idea why the man thought it was relevant. 

The next photo was an evidentiary image. A collar---something close to what Tauriel had described---was in pieces. It was labelled as the epicentre of the disaster. Thranduil wondered who had sacrificed their life for the others---or if it had been possible to remove it before an elf died for their escape. He glanced at Owen; the man's expression was closed and difficult to read. 

"I..." 

"The next ones, Thran." 

Surveillance photographs, seeming to be stills from camera footage, showed several elves---including a couple Thranduil recognised as his subjects---getting into a vehicle. One of them, whose face he could not see, had long blond hair, much like his own. 

That image was why Deckard suspected he'd been involved. 

"Oh." 

"Were you there?"

"Owen, no," Thranduil replied, quickly and honestly. 

"I won't be mad," the man promised him. "I'd understand why you kept it from me. I just want the truth---"

"I wasn't there!" he exclaimed. "I hid so well I didn't even know this was going on until Tauriel found me!" 

Owen frowned. "It looks like you. Maybe a brother or cousin---"

"It's not me. I'm not the only one like me with blond hair, Owen." 

"---or son?"

Thranduil frowned more. His eyes turned to the photograph. He knew it couldn't be a child of his, but the more he thought about it, the more he worried about it being true despite his beliefs. 

"No," Thranduil whispered, shaking his head. 

"But you have a son," Owen said quietly. 

"I..."

"Thran." 

"I... I do," he whispered. 

"Where is he?"

"Far from here. Far from there," he said, gesturing to the image. "It is not him." 

Owen sighed. Then, he leaned in and kissed his shoulder. "What happened?" 

"He left." 

Owen nodded. He rested his chin on Thranduil's shoulder. "You're sure that's not him?"

"Yes," Thranduil replied. "Mostly. I suspect I know the blond... there is something familiar about them, but it is not my Legolas." 

"Pretty name. What does it mean?"

"Green leaf." 

Owen hummed. Then, he asked: "Where's his mother?"

The elf frowned. He did not like thinking about those days, but he knew Owen needed an answer. "Gone. She undertook a mission to protect our family while I was... unaware. It did not go well." 

"It's what a parent does, yeah?" Owen said quietly. He brushed his fingers over Thranduil's jaw and turned the elf to face him. "Was this before you met Bard?"

Thranduil nodded. Owen sighed. He leaned in and kissed Thranduil's cheek. "So much loss," Owen murmured. "I'm sorry you've had such a hard life." 

"There have been reprieves from the pain," the elf whispered. He turned his head and kissed the man's lips. "You are... wonderful." 

Owen smiled. "So are you, love." 

"I am sorry if you doubted---"

"I did, but you set me straight, and we're fine now, yeah?" Thranduil nodded. Owen sighed and kissed his temple. "I'm sorry. I jumped to conclusions without---"

"It is fine," Thranduil interrupted. "But, remember... I might not tell you everything, but I have never lied. I know I'm safe with you, and I trust you with my secrets."

"It just takes a while to get 'em out of you," the man commented. 

"I am not accustomed to sharing." 

Owen chuckled. "Understatement," he commented. "It's alright. I don't mind digging for clues." 

Thranduil smiled and kissed him. He pulled back and looked at Owen's phone again. The picture of the elves escaping the war bothered him; he couldn't keep himself from worrying. Had the military found Valinor? Was the magic of the Valar no match for current technology? Were those who sailed or passed into the next life in danger, too? 

"Hey, I'm sorry," Owen said quietly. "Deckard was trying to rile me up and he succeeded---"

"No, it's not your fault," Thranduil interrupted him. "It's just... making me wonder about those I thought were safe from this mess."

"You think they're not?"

"I don't know. They should be."

Owen nuzzled his temple. "Can you get into contact with them?"

"Probably not." 

"Then trying..."

"Would put a target on them," Thranduil finished when the man's words trailed off into an unspoken question. "I won't do that. I have to trust that they're still safe." 

"Your son is with them." 

Thranduil nodded. "They found a place to rebuild their lives---"

"Another compound?"

"Sort of." 

"Why didn't you go with them?"

Thranduil frowned. "I did not feel the need." 

"Sick of cult life?" Owen asked. 

The elf turned his head. "Cult?" he echoed. 

"Well, yes," Owen replied. "That's where you grew up, yeah?" he asked. "You made it sound... well, I mean, between the weapons training and the strange celebrations and special language and everything else---"

"You think I was raised in a cult?"

"You turned out pretty normal, all things considering---"

Thranduil interrupted him by bursting into laughter. He tried to calm down, but every time he caught sight of Owen's questioning and understanding face, he ended up laughing more. As he sobered, he realised that it probably made the most sense to the man, but hearing it out loud was too funny to avoid reacting. 

"Oh... Owen. You... I... well..." 

"Tell me." 

"It wasn't quite... like that. Perhaps close to it, by your standards," he said. He curled his fingers under Owen's chin. "But, we were not like those groups on the news, facing down the authorities. Our children were precious and cherished, not abused. And we did our best to keep our peoples safe and hidden from danger." 

Owen nodded. He smiled. "Good. I... well, I don't know what I was picturing, but that made the most sense." 

Thranduil kissed him. He didn't want to talk about his past, he didn't want to struggle to present the truth in its vaguest terms, and he didn't want to feel like he was lying to Owen. He smiled and looked at the man at his side. 

"I love you," he whispered. "Thank you for accepting me." 

"I love you, too," Owen replied, "so it's easy." 

Thranduil hugged him. He exhaled slowly, in relief, when Owen hugged him back. 

"I'll tell Deckard to knock it off," Owen said quietly, into Thranduil's hair. "I won't let him get to me so easily now." 

"He is your brother," Thranduil murmured. "It is his job to protect you. Or he sees it as his job. But, I was never there, Owen." 

"I believe you." 

"I wish they hadn't had to do that---"

"But, if they were being held, like Tauriel said, they'd do anything to get free," Owen interrupted. He rubbed Thranduil's back. "I get it. And if it were you, being held, I would never punish you for doing what you had to do to get free again. I want you to fight. Always. Fight and escape and come back to me, you got that?"

Thranduil nodded. 

"And know that I'd be coming for you," Owen added. 

"Owen..." 

The man kissed his lover's shoulder. "I'm always coming for you," he whispered. "If anything ever happens, if I can't keep you safe, you better believe I'm coming to get you out." 

"I believe you," the elf breathed. "We always find each other," he added quietly, "and we always will." 

"Always," Owen whispered back.

&&&&&

"This is where she said to meet her?"

Thranduil snorted as he looked around the club. He nodded and took Owen's hand. "Come on," he insisted. "Let's blend in." 

"Love, you never blend in," Owen muttered affectionately. 

Thranduil had received a text from Tauriel midway through through their morning. She'd been on her way and had arranged to meet them in a club in a city outside of London's camera-ridden gaze that night. The former Elvenking had wished she would send someone---someone he knew---but he knew she wanted to keep his identity as secret as possible and he and Owen both appreciated that she was making the trip. 

Owen had information for her. Thranduil wanted to ensure she was alright. Text messages could only share so much. 

He was nervous about bringing Tauriel across Deckard's sights, but Owen had assured him Deckard had gone. He'd had one more terse conversation with his older brother before he'd left; he told Owen he was heading out of the country to work for a client, named Jakande, but that he'd keep tabs on the pair of them. Owen had come back from that meeting a little riled, but he dove into planning for Tauriel's meeting and by the end of the day he'd even seemed like he was looking forward to seeing the other elf. 

Thranduil ordered a glass of wine for himself and a dark beer for Owen. He rarely chose beer, but he suspected if he were working, he would not want wine. He was rewarded for his choice with a smile and a squeeze of his fingers; both males took their drinks and turned their attention to the crowd. 

"Want to dance?" Owen asked. 

The elf laughed. "I don't think so." 

"When we're finished. One dance." 

Thranduil sighed and nodded. "Fine." 

Owen grinned. He dragged him further into the club, around the sea of wiggling people, and towards a table that seemed to be empty. There'd been one person, but at the sight of Owen, he got up and scurried away. 

"I'm not that intimidating, am I?" Owen asked. 

Thranduil smiled. "Only to everyone else," he said as he sat down and tugged Owen to join him. 

It didn't take long for Tauriel to find them. She slid into the other side of the booth, a glass of something way-too-pink in her hand. She was dressed to fit in with the crowd; she was wearing a short skirt, tall boots, and a top that showed off a lot of skin. Her tattoos, surprisingly, were covered, and her face was also covered in makeup that Thranduil guessed wasn't all that comfortable to wear. 

"Wow."

Tauriel grinned at Owen's comment. "I can blend in when I have to," she told him. 

"Apparently." 

"The metal detectors didn't catch your gun?"

"I came in through the roof." 

Owen snorted. "Of course you did." 

"So, the excitement never stops for you two," she said. "I thought you guys would have a break after I left."

"That's what we'd hoped for," Thranduil said. He shrugged. "It's fine. Although Deckard's arrival was more exciting than we'd hoped." 

Owen snorted again.

"I can imagine," Tauriel said. "I am glad you're both unhurt." 

"Deck wouldn't hurt me," Owen said. "But, his reaction to Thran was surprising." 

Tauriel nodded. Thranduil reached under the table and squeezed Owen's knee. "It's fine. We got through it," the blond elf murmured.

With more distance between him and his meeting Deckard, he felt worse that Deckard was so set against Owen being with him; he didn't like being a wedge between Owen and his family. He didn't want to make the man choose between them. He was afraid he'd be abandoned, but he was also afraid that staying with him, if he was chosen, would make the man resentful. He wanted to avoid that at all costs, but he knew it would depend on the difficult task of changing Deckard's mind about elves. 

"For now," Owen agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a data card in a plastic case. He held it up, then set it down on the table. As he pushed it towards Tauriel, he said, "Some information on Hobbs. And on the other guy." 

"Really?"

"We'd prefer it if you don't take immediate action," Thranduil said, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to order her around, but he wanted to make it clear to her that to go off impulsively could be more than she can handle. "If you want to track them or link them to previous events---"

"I know," she said quietly. "I already told you---"

"I'm putting something together," Owen said, cutting off her statement. "When it looks like I've got a plan of action, I'll bring you in." 

Tauriel smirked. "I look forward to it." 

"What about me?" Thranduil asked, pouting a bit. 

Owen smiled at him. "I suspect I'm going to have to bring you in sooner rather than later, love," he said in reply. "Only way I can think to keep you safe is to keep you close." 

"Good." 

The man chuckled. He turned and kissed his elf's cheek. "We'll talk about it later, alright?"

Thranduil nodded. He was excited at the prospect of joining Owen. He didn't particularly care to break the law, but the idea of being close to Owen and of being with him was thrilling. Going against those who threatened the elves was a little scary, the more he learned about their opponent; but Owen's willingness to plan and proceed gave him hope that they could free his kin. 

"Where's the blood?" Tauriel asked. 

Owen reached into his other pocket. He pulled out a small black case. Tauriel took it and tucked it into her coat's inside panel.

"Keep it confidential, Tauriel," Owen said in a firm voice. "I don't want it getting out that---"

"I wouldn't betray you," the red-haired elf interrupted. She shook her head. "Owen, I just wouldn't." 

"I know. I had to say it, though." 

She nodded. "I understand. No one will know the identity of the source of the blood." 

Thranduil looked at her questioningly when she rose to her feet. She smiled, a little sadly. "I shouldn't stay any longer," she explained. "I want to get back. They were nervous about me leaving the safe house so soon." 

"Be safe," Thranduil said. 

She nodded again. "I will. Same to both of you," she replied. "I will be in touch when I have some information for you," she added, patting her chest where Owen's case as hidden. "But, if you need me, make contact." 

"We will," Owen assured her. 

She slipped into the crowd and disappeared from sight. 

Thranduil turned to look at Owen. He smiled. Owen smiled back at him. They shared a kiss; when they parted lips, Owen slid his hand along Thranduil's cheek. 

"Feel like going for a drive?" he asked quietly. 

"What about that dance?"

Owen grinned. "We can dance later," he replied. "For now, I just want a dark highway, no traffic, and you at my side." 

"Charmer." 

"C'mon." 

Thranduil went easily. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the rest of the night, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> It may be a while before I get the next story finished---because my Barduil Secret Santa fic has taken on a life of its own (goodness, these two are going to end me! haha)---but I have been working on it.


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